


Civil War

by LittleMissSyreid



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Crossdressing, Disguise, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Sexual Content, Memory Loss, Original Character Death(s), Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6495169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSyreid/pseuds/LittleMissSyreid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your cover within the Howling Commandos is blown, a relationship is created between you and Bucky Barnes that might never have come to fruition otherwise. However, before you can grow closer, duty, honour, and sacrifice rip you apart in an explosive event that sets you on a course for the future...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially:  
> Mulan, as my girlfriend so helpfully pointed out.

Captain America’s shield was iconic. Any decade, with any person, the infamous red, white, and blue resonated with many and strikes fear into the hearts of the rest. He was legendary.

Steven Rogers, on the other hand, was known by few, and that’s just how he liked it. When he picked up his shield, he was Captain America and the world knew him, but when he stepped away from the fame, he had only his close friends; the best of those being Bucky Barnes.

Captain America and his Howling Commandos scoured the globe destroying HYDRA bases and bringing the villainous scourge closer to its end.

A large padlock put up a valiant fight against Cap’s shield, but in vain. Bucky Barnes kicked the door wide open, and the Howling Commandos made a grand entrance, releasing a barrage of bullets and fire upon the men within. They divided the crowd, diving betwixt them; shooting, shielding, ducking, and jumping. Whatever it took. The barn was dark and dusty, light spilling through small cracks in the wood and teeming with grey particulates that swirled in the dusty sunshine. Overhead were a few rickety rafters carrying more armed men, mirroring the platoons underneath. All heads turned as the doors sprung apart.

Bucky Barnes sprinted forward and dropped to his knees, sliding across the floor and disarming the man before him. Wrapping his legs around the man’s waist, he pulled the assailant to the floor and knocked him unconscious before moving swiftly on.

Dum Dum Dugan’s fighting style consisted solely of firing his shotgun repeatedly in various directions whilst laughing boisterously. Jim Morita, Jacques Dernier, and Gabe Jones stood back-to-back as they edged in, searching for signs of movement and firing in the equivalent direction. Cap took on multiple assailants at once that, had he been that small boy from Brooklyn, would’ve likely been too many. It could be argued that the odds were still against him but he was stubborn and ready to fight. James Montgomery Falsworth, meanwhile, was already climbing the rafters with a knife between his teeth. He was pursued by the final member of the Howling Commandos.

The shadows hid Falsworth from sight as he ascended the ladder, stopping at the top to reach over the edge. He pulled Robert Miller up onto the bridge before removing the blade from his mouth.   
“You holding up alright?” Falsworth asked.   
“What makes you think I’m not?” Miller replied as he shot one of the more observant henchmen in the chest.

The newest Commando had taken particular fancy to a pair of dual pistols he’d stolen on the last mission – and Lord, did he know how to use them. Falsworth smirked before moving along the rafters.   
“The research facility should be just up ahead.”   
“And then, what? Boom?” Miller asked as he made more precise shots.   
“Boom, indeed.” Falsworth chuckled.

As Miller and Falsworth navigated the rafters, the rest of the team worked through the main hall. Bucky looked up at the sound of more frequent and agitated gun shots. A swarm of men previously unseen to him were attacking his two comrades. A bridge stretched directly over his head on which 4 gunmen stood, aiming for his friends on the other end of it. Without thinking, Bucky retrieved a grenade and tossed it onto the rafter. The explosion crumbled the supports and the bridge careered towards the ground.

Barnes saluted at Miller, who peered over the railing with gratitude on his features. As he and Falsworth moved on in safety, Bucky approached the pile of bodies that were crushed under the broken half of the bridge. He manoeuvred around them and continued forward.

“Dernier sorted out some charges for us to lay down. Should have enough firepower to take this place and everyone in it to hell and back.” Falsworth explained from behind a crate. Miller, however, leapt nimbly over and lifted his pistols consecutively to fire. The former rolled his eyes with a smile. _Show off._  
“Obviously without us in the vicinity.” Miller said, though his voice did infer some concern.   
“Obviously.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to place down three of the four charges. Meanwhile, the team below continued to hold off the HYDRA forces, giving them the time to do so.   
“I’m going to place this last charge. Tell the others to turn back, sooner we’re gone the better.”   
“How long have we got?”   
“Long enough, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Falsworth scampered away. Miller looked over the railings as Bucky Barnes struggled to defend himself against a particularly burly opponent. Worse still, a man neared him with what appeared to be some sort of flamethrower! The bulky weapon hung from the merc’s back in a worryingly large jetpack-like rucksack; a rucksack which looked incredibly heavy. Perhaps heavy enough to throw him off balance…  

Miller turned to the wall behind him and pulled a few cables from it. Despite what he might like to think, he wasn’t the lightest of chaps and so multiple cables were, in fact, necessary. He could feel his stomach lurch as he swung through the air and his feet collided with the skull of the pyromaniac.

Bucky’s nails clawed at his attacker’s hands. He was pinned against the wall with a bar over his throat and he could feel his strength waning. As his eyes threatened to close and his breath threatened to leave his lungs, a sudden unbearable heat forced him awake.

The eyes of the HYDRA thug were wide as a blood curdling scream escaped his lips. It was terrifying to see an onslaught of flames tearing and licking at his shirt, slowly crawling onto his skin and making his flesh bubble. The thug scrambled away, tearing at his face, allowing Bucky to see Miller stood behind him with a curious backpack on his shoulders, and a gun in his hands bearing a strange nozzle. Fire snuck back into the depths of the barrel and Bucky did the math.

“Oh mama,” Miller laughed, tossing the flamethrower lightly between his hands, “I have got to get me one of these!” Bucky limped forward with a goofy smile.   
“Maybe you can take it with you.”   
“No time. Too heavy and we need to go.”

The others stood outside the barn, waiting glad to see Bucky limping outside with his arm over Miller’s shoulder.   
“Buck!” Cap cried out but the brunette held up his hand.   
“I’m fine. Bobby made sure of that.”   
“Good to see you’re still in one-”

“Uh, gents?” Falsworth interrupted. “I hate to interrupt this fabulous display of comradery but we are on a bit of a clock.”  
“Right. Later then.” Cap declared, straightening his back and leading his troops. Miller and the tired Bucky lagged behind a little as they marched towards the rising moon on the edge of the horizon.

“I think I can walk on my own.” Bucky announced after a while. Miller let him stand.   
“Let me know if you feel yourself going down. You’re not as heavy as that damned fire-gun.”   
“You still bitter about leaving that thing behind?”   
“Only now I know that I had time to salvage it.”   
“I’m sure Stark will make you one if you ask him nicely enough.” Barnes chuckled, stretching his back and letting his hands rest on his hips.

The explosion was slightly dulled at first as the charges at the back of the building detonated first. Nonetheless, as the barn blew up and the resultant sound increased in volume, Captain America and his Howling Commandos turned to watch the spectacle of a mission well done.

Until the debris hit.

Apparently, they weren’t as far away as they should’ve been and Dernier neglected to describe just how volatile his explosives could be. Shards of wood and metal, though rare, did make it as far as they were and everyone searched for temporary cover.

The last person to find any, however, was Robert Miller. He was just able to push Bucky out of the way before the stake plunged into his abdomen. He let out a shrill yelp and lurched to the ground. Bucky leapt to his friend’s aid and tried to the drag him to safety. He stopped when he groaned in pain.   
“Miller’s been hit. We’ve gotta get out of here.”   
“Can’t.” Dugan was reluctant to admit, ducking his head as shrapnel flew past. “Too much wreckage coming at us. Gotta wait it out.”   
“Not an option.” Bucky barked, lifting his hand into the air and catching Cap’s shield.

He held it over his head as he carried Miller less than gracefully towards safety. Not too far away was a small bracken encompassing a river that would lead them back to base. It was a short walk that seemed longer in light of the situation but the other Commandos hesitantly pursued Bucky, and the journey home began.

Even in the dark of the night, Miller’s vision was able to fade further and the world fell into complete and blissful black.


	2. Blood and Secrets, Spilled

Your mouth tasted like metal and salt as your tongue swum around your bloodied mouth. You screwed your eyes further shut, trying to move your body – only to feel a pain shoot through your body like lightning through a tree.

Immediately a hand was on your head.  
“You’ve got a fever, and you’re gonna open them stitches if you move too much.” The voice said. “Stay down.”

After a reluctant pause, you obeyed and lay your heavy head back down. The world was still dark and spinning. Your abdomen felt like it was on fire and your foot was made of radio static.

“I’ve got to give it you,” your present company sighed. The more you listened to the voice, the more familiar it sounded, “you had a pretty convincing disguise.”

Oh no, you thought. Oh no! How could you have been so stupid, so clumsy as to get caught? Of _course_ , they’d realise. You had two substantial give-aways stashed under a wrap around your chest, and there was no hiding them if you needed injuries treating.

You forced your eyes open. With difficulty, you propped yourself onto your elbows and stared at the blurry figure sat by your feet. You were lying on the floor of a tent, a blanket strewn crudely across your legs and a mat under your body. Your wrap was still around your torso but a bandage underneath brushed against the material, which also felt looser. It had been moved. Unwrapped. You were discovered.

As your vision cleared, you identified your (albeit unwanted) guest. Bucky Barnes. His face was bitter and he stared at the floor.  
“Even had me fooled.” He growled. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or angry.”

You wanted to make a joke, restore some of the relationship you once had with him; as a comrade, as friends. But now was not the time. You could tell by his face alone that he was fuming.  
“I gotta know… Why’d you do it? Why in God’s name would you want to come out here, doin’ this? It’s almost insulting that you think this situation is aspirational, that you would do anything to be here.”

“And you wouldn’t?” You snapped, feeling more insulted than you thought it possible for him to be. “Tell me, what hardship have you gone through?”  
“Aside from facing death on the battlefield every day?”  
“Yes, aside from that. What did you have to do to get here? Just show up. I had to become someone else just to do my bit, just to fight for my country, to give them Jerries what’s coming to them. I had to change everything about myself, go to hell and back, just to do what I’ve wanted to do my whole life. What my brothers are doing, what my father is doing.”

“There are plenty of women helping in the war effort.” Bucky growled back with equal fervour. “Decoding, manufacturing, cooking, handiwork – are those jobs any less important?”  
“I will not disrespect what we’re already doing. But why should I be denied the ability to fight for my country where it counts just because you say I can’t? Why can’t I help my country in the way I know I can do best? I’m a better shot than I am a seamstress or baker.”

You winced as your argument caused distress to your wound. You feared that it might have opened again so you shuffled onto your back once more to lie down.  
“Oh, what would you know? You don’t know what it’s like to change everything for what you believe in.”

Bucky ground his jaw.  
“Maybe not. Maybe I haven’t experienceD it first-hand like you have, and maybe I’m not as empathetic as I could be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve still seen what a desire to fight can do… and it’s not just you it affects in the end.”

You lifted your head, looking at Bucky, awaiting explanation. You would likely be expelled from duty as it was, there was no point trying to stay there now.  
“My best friend was a little punk on the streets who wouldn’t run from a fight. Every chance he could, he’d enlist and be turned down. Then when the opportunity arose to actually get in, he took it. Let a scientist test on him for crying out loud, if it meant he’d be a little taller, a little stronger, a little better at fighting back.”

“Steve…” You whispered and Bucky ran a hand through his hair. His face was still far from happy but he looked less angry now.  
“Steve. So don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve seen what it can do to a man… or a woman.”

Ignoring the pain in your stomach completely, you tried to sit up again. Bucky crawled towards you, helping you do so more easily. You felt grateful that he wasn’t trying to push you back down. Between painful breaths, you spoke.  
“I… I didn’t know.”

“And neither does anyone else. Just me and the doc.” He smirked. You watched him with wide eyes. “And it can stay that way, if you want.”  
“Why… Why would you do that?”  
“Because,” he placed a pillow behind you and hoped he could adjust it to help you sit more comfortably. He also eyed your bandaged stomach warily, “I’ve seen someone with the same fire in your eyes and now he’s America’s hero. My guess is, if someone had told him what you’re expecting to be told, he’d still be that same little punk getting in fights on the streets of Brooklyn. Without him, we wouldn’t be winning this war.”

“So, you don’t care that I’m… I’m a woman?”  
“No. Alright maybe you’re a little more petite than Dugan, and maybe I’ll be a bit warier of who you’re fighting now, but you also saved my ass with a god damn flamethrower. You’ve more than proven yourself. Right now I just care that you’re not going to reopen this wound.”

Bucky decided that no matter how much he adjusted the pillow, it would not work as he wished so he resorted to helping you lower back down. At least if you were lying flat, the stitches would hold better. You let him manoeuvre you back onto the floor, surprised but also relieved.  
“The doctor has told them that you’re not fit for visitors currently and I’m only in here to watch you whilst he can’t. He won’t say a word unless I tell him to. You just get better and then we can get you back where we need you.”

Bucky placed the back of his hand against your forehead again and sighed.  
“Though I suspect that’ll be some time. For now, though, we’ve got that time and I should say we’ve earned it. I’ll check back in when I can but for now, rest up, okay?” You mocked a salute and then regretted it as pain bit at your side. Noticing your grimace, Bucky chuckled.  
“Don’t be stupid. Get better.” He chuckled before standing up and making for the exit. Before he could leave, however, you called out his name. He stopped and turned his head slightly, letting you see his profile.

“Thank you.” You croaked, letting your eyes slide shut. Bucky smiled coyly and stepped into the midday sun.


	3. The Passing of Time

Tumultuous cheering and applause ensued as you limped into the bar where your friends awaited. Cap stood and beamed as he pulled up a chair. Dugan had a large glass of beer that sloshed dangerously as he lifted it up in your honour. Falsworth, who was returning to the table, had two in his hands and passed one to Morita as he nodded in your direction.

The glee on your face was obvious and the feeling itself was indescribable. To be back among your teammates as if nothing had changed was terrifyingly exhilarating. The fact that Bucky knew your true identity didn’t seem to matter now.

Your confidant set you down in the chair and pulled one up next to you, checking that you were safe and comfortable before sitting down himself. Thankfully, nobody second-guessed his attentiveness.   
“Nice to see you up and runnin’ again there, champ.” Dugan announced with a tip of his hat.   
“Nice to be back.” You replied.

“Well, in honour of your return,” he grinned, throwing his drink down his neck, “you should get the next round.” A thrum of laughter emerged from your friends and settled any and all of your nerves.   
“Now what kind of welcome is that?” Bucky sighed, shaking his head, though smirking at Dugan’s cheekiness.   
“I don’t mind.” You chuckled. “If you wouldn’t mind getting ‘em.”

Two drinks later and you were enjoying a light buzz. Bucky and Steve nursed their drinks with more care whilst Dugan was incredibly merry.   
“So, what say we go do somethin’?” He declared. “Bobby, I bet you’re gonna want a little excitement after being holed up in that tent for so long. Wanna go dancing? Pick up a few birds to warm the bed t’night?”   
“Can’t.” Bucky interrupted as he downed the last of his pint. “Gotta take this one back to the tent. Doc’s orders.”   
“And when did you become his personal nurse?”   
“About the same time he took a hit in my place.”

You had recognised Bucky’s guilt the first time he’d fought the doctor to visit you. If they were going to convince the others to stay out of the way, thus keeping your identity a secret, Bucky had to be no exception. However, every opportunity he could, Bucky snuck into the tent to check up on you. He bought you food, caught you up on the weather, and generally kept your bored mind distracted with conversation. The others were too busy deciding the next plan of attack anyway.

Dugan rolled his eyes.   
“Let the kid have some fun. Burn off a lil’ steam.”   
“Sorry, Dugan,” you said, “but Bucky’s right. I should head back. ‘Fraid I’m in no state to have my bed warmed.” You said, making to stand. Bucky placed his hands under your arms and helped you up.

“Won’t miss you anyway, Barnes.” Dugan joked, punching his hip playfully before the brunette could leave. You made sure to swerve out of his range before he could pay you the same courtesy. Falsworth clapped a hand on the moustachioed man’s shoulder.   
“Were it not already obvious, I regret to inform you that my friend here is unlawfully hammered.”

Despite Dugan’s protests, everyone agreed to turn in but you and Bucky had already left.   
“We’re not really going back to the tent, are we?” You asked.   
“I figure if you’re fit enough we can stop off somewhere first. It’s a nice evening and there’s no point spending it inside.”   
“Agreed.”

Bucky lowered you onto a log in the middle of a clearing and picked up a couple of nearby sticks. He arranged them over a small pile of leaves and grass before picking up a couple of nearby rocks and striking them near the base.   
“You learn that in the army?”   
“You didn’t?”   
“I didn’t exactly get in through the usual means.” You said, kicking the dirt softly.

“Well, you don’t just learn it there. Every kid should know how to bang a couple o’ rocks together. Swing a stick, start a fire – you know, the usual.”   
“I don’t know actually.” You smiled sadly. “There are things that young women shouldn’t do and banging rocks is one of them.”   
“Well come here, I’ll show you.” Bucky said, sitting back on the balls of his feet.

You were still a little stiff but not incapable of sitting on your knees. The dirt was cool and refreshing. You took the rocks from Bucky and felt his arms slide around your back, taking your wrists. You glanced at him with a raised brow.   
“I know _how_ to hit rocks. Just show me more specifically.” You said monotonously.   
“I am.” Bucky quipped with a smirk. He moved your left wrist slowly in a circular movement. “You want to cast the sparks that way so they don’t go anywhere else. Nice, quick, sharp strikes. Got it?”   
“Yeah, I got it.”

After a few attempts, you could hear a gentle crackling under the pile of logs.   
“Alright, now you gotta get low and blow on it slightly. Stoke the flames.”

Bucky lay alongside you, helping blow the embers gently into something more substantial. When you were happy that you had a fire going, you smiled.   
“There’s something oddly satisfying about it.” You whispered.   
“Why are you whispering?” Bucky replied in equal hush.   
“Well, everything’s so quiet. Seems a shame to ruin it. Why are _you_ whispering?”   
“Because… well, you started it.”

With brief smile, you sat up once more and dusted your hands on your lap. Bucky stretched and helped you to your feet.   
“We’re lucky, really.” He said.   
“Lucky?”   
“Yeah. We could be out in them trenches, where you can’t light a smoke or say or word without givin’ Hitler an extra footing. Instead we’re here. We got decent food, we can sorta do as we want, and we give Adolf’s little scientists a kick between the legs every other week.”   
“It’s not the metaphor I would’a gone with but… I suppose you’re right.”

Bucky leaned over the fallen tree you sat on and pulled out a dusty bottle.   
“My Ma sent it to me.” He said, pulling out the cork. “For a special occasion. Seems to think we might actually win this thing.”   
“Of course we will.” You said, perhaps a little exuberantly.   
“Nonetheless. I think a girl lighting her first fire is a damn special occasion too.” He handed the bottle to you and let you take a swig. Knowing who you were only made the mouthful you stomached more impressive – and the other drinks you’d had before he knew you were a woman.

“Maybe I’ll teach you to sew one day.” You remarked as you passed the bottle back to him. He put it to his lips with a smirk.   
“I thought you were a better shot than a seamstress.”  
“I am. But I’m an excellent shot, so I can still be a decent seamstress.”  
“Cheers to that.”

You almost wished the night would go on forever; no hint of the combat ensuing in the rest of the world, no feeling of the injury on your stomach. Just peace and the stars and the crackling of a fire. It was no surprise that the calm atmosphere lulled you to sleep, though Bucky didn’t notice your head on his shoulder until you murmured something gently from within your dreams.

He carried you back to your tent and lay you down gently, before tucking your hair behind your ear. He sat like this for a while, cross-legged. Just sat, watching you, checking that you were in no pain or needed anything before he left.

It gave him time to notice his elevated pulse. His clammy hands. The heat on his cheeks.   
_Oh no_ , he thought to himself, _oh no. This is not good. This is absolutely, very not good._

But there was nothing he could do about it. As Bucky left the infirmary tent, he counted all the ways he could think to tell you and abandoned them all.

Bucky Barnes was smitten and there was nothing he could do about it.


	4. Mission's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get the tissues ready.

After what had seemed like forever, the doctor finally bid you fit to leave his services. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was glad to be rid of you, what with Bucky’s constant dismissal of his anti-visitor policy. You suited yourself up and checked that you hadn’t missed any details. It felt as though you hadn’t been fully disguised in ages – you wanted to make sure that you weren’t missing something that might give you away. You got lucky in the bar. Bucky helped you with your disguise and everyone was slightly pissed.

Bucky poked his head through the entrance to the tent and grinned.   
“You good, champ?” He proclaimed, a little louder than was necessary.   
“They’re outside, aren’t they?”

He smiled again and stepped inside fully.   
“Seriously, you alright? I won’t have you collapsing today. We got a long walk to the next base.”   
“I’ll be fine.” You smiled, adjusting the helmet on your head and turning to him. Your pistols were in their holsters either side of your hips but they still felt lighter than the flamethrower your heart longed for.   
“Once we’re inside, you don’t take on more than you can handle, understand?”

“You better not be mollycoddling me just ‘cause you know I’m a dame.”   
“I’m mollycoddling ya’ because you got hurt last time.”   
“Well, that was hardly from me taking on too much. Relax.” You smiled and punched his shoulder before surpassing him and exiting the tent.

Bucky grimaced when he heard the cheers of the other Commandos. He couldn’t tell whether knowing your identity made this situation better or worse. Your façade had been reintroduced as if nothing had changed but, oh, so much had changed. There was so much Bucky wished he could do or say, so much he wanted to protect you from but knew he couldn’t.

Maybe he could just tell Steve. Only Steve; that wouldn’t hurt, right? As Bucky stepped outside and saw the Howling Commandos begin to march, with ‘Bobby’ deep in their midst, he sighed. Of course he couldn’t tell Steve. There were more important things at hand.

Readjusting the rifle on his shoulder, Bucky made haste and followed his friends into the fray.

* * *

 

As per usual, you followed Falsworth through the shadows whilst the others posed a distraction. You could hear the firing of guns and the subsequent yells the produced, hearing the string of foreign curses that escaped dying men’s mouths as they were cut down. Every now and then, you could hear the familiar _bong_ of Cap’s shield ramming into a skull or a torso (both body parts sounded the same to you as they collided with the vibranium alloy).

“We’ve just passed the main storage hold. Next will be-”  
“The labs and the weaponry hangar. I remember.” You said, reloading your pistols and preparing for another bout.   
“Just checking.” James smirked as he peered around the corner. The two of you were navigating a tunnel in the roof that would lead you to the rafters you remembered from the last time. Over his shoulder, you could see the familiar sight, complete with rickety silver bridges and oblivious HYDRA mercenaries.

Falsworth kneeled down and nestled a charge safely in the shadows. The little bulb began to flash red, giving you the signal to move on. Stepping out into the next hall, you fired 3 times and 3 bodies toppled over the railings to the hangar floor below. Steve and the others had also made their way through and Bucky a flashed a smile in your direction. You saluted at him and skipped nimbly onwards.   
“It’s like he never even got hurt, hey?” Gabe Jones remarked as he surpassed Bucky. The latter chewed his lip slightly but ultimately moved on.

After clearing the way of HYDRA agents and making a path for Falsworth to get through, you examined the hangar over which the rafters stretched.   
“That’s a lot of weaponry,” you remarked. Indeed, the entire hangar seemed chock full of them, brimming with technology and machinery, the likes of which you’d only ever seen on your missions. It baffled you that someone had dreamed all of this up; designed it. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have created anything remotely similar. Could a world so reliant on technology be so great? Surely innovation is only as good as its creator. For every Howard Stark there is a Johann Schmidt, though it could be argued they were just as dangerous as each other. 

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Falsworth sighed, scratching his neck. “This is a lot more than the last few times.”  
“Surely that’s good? We’ve found their biggest reserve of artillery! This’ll set ‘em back months, if not a year.”  
“Only if we can blow it all up.”   
“We got enough charges?”   
“Maybe, but we gotta place them right. If even one of these things doesn’t get destroyed, a lot of our boys won’t make it home for Christmas.”

You could see the concern on his face, even in the shadows of the ceiling. You clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him.   
“Then we’d better get those charges down. You tell me where to put them.”

* * *

 

“It didn’t go off. Why didn’t it go off?” Jim Morita exclaimed. The group had congregated a good distance away near a scar of forest. Falsworth had activated the detonator halfway, giving just enough time to reach safe ground - but there was no explosion. No gust of air making the boys stumble. No fire. No smoke. No boom. Nothing.

Gabe spoke with Dernier for a couple of minutes and the Frenchman seemed to be a combination of angry and disappointed in himself. As the demolitions expert, he obviously felt a certain level of culpability. After a solemn nod, Jones turned to the group.   
“The charges are linked to each other. If one of them doesn’t detonate, none of them do.”   
“Alright, so how do we fix it?” Steve asked, folding his arms.

Jones sighed.   
“That’s the thing. To detonate them, the broken charge has to be reset manually.”   
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a catch?”   
“Well, when the charge is reset-”  
“-the connection is restored.” Bucky sighed.   
“Immediately, yeah.” Jones said. Dernier made a crude explosion sound, accompanied by an expanding gesture with his hands.

Dugan groaned and reloaded his shotgun.   
“So let’s get in there, get the bombs out, and try again later.” He declared, making to march towards the barn.   
“We can’t!” Jones said. Dernier had grabbed his elbow, suddenly sombre again, upon seeing Dugan making off. “Even if we could get the bombs out without them going off, the Skull is going to be here within the hour. We’d be caught.”   
“So what are you saying?” Steve asked, seeing the grim situation they were in and hoping to wrap it up with a solution.   
“The best we can do is leave the charges where they are and hope that some HYDRA goon presses the wrong button.”

“And if they don’t? If they remove the charges or the weapons before they can detonate?” said Falsworth. Steve’s face was dark and frustrated.   
“Then HYDRA holds onto the biggest pile of weapons they’ve had the whole war.”   
“We’ve gotta do something!” Dugan protested.

“Has anyone seen Miller?” Bucky cut in suddenly. His eyes were wide and frantic, and his mouth parted slightly. Not having noticed your absence, everyone’s eyes turned, scouring the immediate area. You couldn’t have gotten far, Bucky knew that, but every tree he looked behind brought up nothing and he feared the worst.   
“He’s… gone?” announced Dugan.   
“But where? Where would he-”

“Barnes.” Falsworth called out from a few feet away. He’d taken to the edge of the woodland, looking through his trusty binoculars, and Bucky’s stomach dropped when he saw the direction they were pointed. James Montgomery passed the binoculars over. “You might want to take a look at this.”

Bucky watched in horror as you pulled open the barn door and slipped back inside. It must’ve taken you a good brisk run to reach the building in the time you did – he thought he could even see the evidence of your pace dusting your cheeks in speckled red but that might’ve been a trick of the light.   
“The hell is he doing?” Dugan snapped.   
“What do you think?” Bucky growled. “He’s gone to reset the charge.”

“M-maybe it won’t work.” Falsworth stammered. “Maybe he’ll get out in time or maybe he just went to retrieve the explosives so we can try again later.” He was feeling suddenly guilty, as if he had pressured you to finish the job with his own concerns.   
“Face it, Falsworth!” Bucky yelled, turning around and throwing the binoculars to the ground. It wasn’t hard enough to break them but the team fell silent nonetheless. “He’s gone. Bobby knew exactly what he was doing the minute he left us, he went in there to get the job done whilst the rest of us were too busy yammering. He’s dead! He’s dead. He’s-”

The sky was painted with amber and ivory, smudging the inky night with flames. The barn exploded in a glorious cacophony of cracking and burning. The Howling Commandos leapt and scurried for cover behind trees and rocks and shields. Well, all but one.

Bucky Barnes watched the glowing carcass of the building, his glassy tears turned orange as they ran down his cheeks.


	5. Coming Home

The halls were emptied of people and light. Any crowds had long since left, leaving only a guard to do his rounds for the final time. To the lone guard of the Smithsonian, it felt like years had passed since his shift began.

To the lone soldier stood in front of an exhibit, years had.

The brim of his cap was low, casting a shadow over his face. Dark eyes fixated on the black and white image before him and his jaw was jutted out as he focused on everything at once. The speakers continued to relay the tour’s narration.   
“Robert ‘Bobby’ Miller was the infamous 7th Commando, of whom there are no known photographs despite mention in almost all of his comrade’s penned works. From diary entries to letters home, ‘Bobby’ Miller was described as fearless. Respected. Brave. The Howling Commandos had been implementing a series of explosions – the targets of which were large HYDRA warehouses, containing weaponry and artillery not yet seen in modern warfare. It is believed that Robert Miller sacrificed himself sometime between December 1943 and March 1944 in order to ensure one of these crucial missions was a success. His martyrdom was a supplement to the Allies’ victory. However, he is not the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

When Bucky Barnes heard his own name through the speaker, he moved swiftly on.

* * *

“How was your day?” Steve asked as he poured two cups of coffee and moved towards the centre of the room. Bucky collapsed into the sofa and removed the hat from his head, running a hand through his matted hair.  

The apartment which the friends shared wasn’t big but it did the trick. A living area nestled against the left side of the room, with a kitchen-diner on the right. A small corridor leading out of the latter led to two moderately sized bedrooms with a bathroom in between. A small skirmish within the world of superheroes had caused a large fight between everybody but after an amicable truce was reached, it was as though nothing had changed. Tony even chipped into the down payment for an apartment so that Bucky could get his life back on track. Absolutely no lives were lost in the war. None. Not a one. Barely even a fight really.

“Fine. Back to the museum again.”   
“And? How was it?” Steve asked as he perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of Bucky.   
“Same as usual. Empty. Dark. Sad.”   
“But you keep going back.”

“I think… I think I’m grasping at straws. Trying to hold on to a time that’s long passed, people that are long gone.”   
“You went back for Miller.”   
“I just can’t help but think she’s… he’s still out there somewhere.” Bucky bit his lip. It wasn’t the first time he’d made that blunder, but thankfully Steve hadn’t noticed, just put it down to his fractured mind. _Thankfully_. Was he really supposed to be thankful that his best friend thought he was teetering on the edge of insanity?

“Just because _we_ both survived doesn’t mean everyone did.” Steve said with a melancholy smile.   
“I… I know that.”   
“I know you do; I just think that you need someone else to say it once in a while. I’m not going to stop you if you want to chase memories, whatever you want to do, I’m with you. But this? Miller? You’ve got to let him go.”

They shared a brief moment of silence and sipped at their still-too-hot coffee. Seemingly remembering something, Steve’s eyebrows shot up over the rim of his mug. He couldn’t swallow his mouthful fast enough.   
“-at’s right! I almost forgot to tell you. I have a date.”

Bucky leant forward, glad for the change in topic.   
“You? A date? Poor girl.” Steve gently kicked him.   
“Hey, I don’t need help getting a date.”   
“Really? I heard Natasha had a list.”   
“Shut up.”

After each taking another sip of coffee, Steve carried on talking. Bucky felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled out the device. The only contacts he had in the phone were those that Steve had given him – the Avengers – so if it went off, it was worth answering, not that he remembered how sometimes. The concept of a cellular phone had interested Bucky to no end. He wasn’t a master but he was desperate the understand, and the concept of instant messaging and phone calls wasn’t too tricky to comprehend.

“I was coming out of this art shop downtown. Nothing too extravagant, I just needed some new pencils.”   
“Mm.” Bucky said, nursing his coffee. He tried for the third time to slide his thumb across the screen the right way but the phone just wouldn’t unlock. He could see that the message was from Natasha but he’d configured it to hide message previews (or rather he’d asked Stark to). He was hoping it would force him to practice using the device every time he got a message, but currently it was only succeeding in frustrating him.

“Anyway, I came out of this shop incredibly happy with my purchase – these pencils had been part of this amazing deal so I also got 3 new drawing pads and a-”  
“Is there going to be woman in this story? Or am I going to find out that your date is some _drawing_ of a woman?” Bucky chuckled, earning a mock look of offense from his friend. The phone made a satisfying click as it recognised Bucky had actually swiped his thumb and wasn’t just attempting to give CPR to the device.   
“Yes, there’s a woman. Let me finish. I came out of this store so incredibly happy with my purchase that I was looking into the bag rather than where I was going.” Bucky tapped the blinking message icon. “I walked straight into this poor girl and knocked her drink all over her. It went all over me too! So, there we are – in the middle of the street, dripping in tea that was thankfully not scolding, looking at each other and waiting for the other one to flip. Next thing you know we are both laughing nervously and apologising. She had nothing to apologise for really, it was my fault. But still, she took off her cardigan and tried to dry me off with it. Pointless really. We were both drenched. I had to admit that she was pretty so I just sort of blurted it out. I wanted to make up for the wasted coffee and so invited her out for one. Smooth right?”

Steve polished off his drink and stood to make some more. From the diner he continued to talk  
“I’m seeing her again tonight. She’s coming by about 7 and I’m cooking her something. You can be here if you want; I’m sure you’d like her – she’s a proper old soul. Listens to the Andrews Sisters, Ella Fitzgerald. Also admitted that she had a bit of a crush on Fred Astaire, but then again, who didn’t.”

Steve continued to ramble but Bucky was no longer listening. His grip on the coffee mug had tightened drastically and his knuckles were white. He stared, wide-eyed and thin-lipped, at the text message on the screen. Natasha had sent two words.

_Found her._


	6. Save My Soul

Black. It was all black. Black and blue. A bruised vision. The ice, it hurt. Everything hurt. Why did everything have to hurt?

Her face stared back at him. Black and blue. Cold and burned. Who was she?

Echoes of voices swum through his ears, drowning his head with noise.   
“He’s been out of cryo too long. We’re trying the woman.”   
“Trying? What do you mean trying?”   
“We’ve never done it before. But we don’t want to wipe him unless we gotta.”

“I… I know her.” Bucky’s voice cut through. It sounded like a brick on sandpaper. Harsh. Rough. Painful. Suddenly someone was next to him and a hand was on his arm. But it wasn’t his arm and he wasn’t really feeling it. All he felt was pain. It hurt. Everything hurt. Why did everything have to hurt?   
“You know her?”   
“Who is she?”   
“She is someone from your past. If you follow orders, your future.”

Bucky’s jaw was limp and it hung open. His eyes felt just as slack. Like they might roll out of his head. His eyes would escape before he could. His sanity had long since left him. Where was he? Was he gone too? Could he be both gone and still here?

The woman.

Again, the woman. Suddenly he was fixated. Frozen. Like a clamp around his brain. Stronger than a hand. A force holding him in place. Like he was running and running but not moving, not getting anywhere. He felt stiff and cold like he was drowning. A stone in a frozen pool. He was heavy. Too heavy to run, to rip himself away from the fantasy. It felt so real and it was crushing him. Making him sink.

Her face was behind a sheet of glass, ice-encrusted. Cold. Burnt.   
“It took a lot to bring her back. She was all toasted. A crisp. But HYDRA did it, like they did for you. HYDRA will always find a way.”   
“Who is she?”   
“Your next mission is in Manhattan.”   
“But who-”

A hand jerked his head to the side and brought him face to face with a monster. Two heads with dripping fangs, and eyes of crimson. Burnt flesh, bubbling and melting. Soft and gooey like raw meat. Tentacles writhing and slithering and poking. The tentacles were everywhere and they were pulling him apart. They were in the cracks. The holes. They were everywhere; in everything. And everything hurt.   
“Complete your mission, soldier, or we can burn her up again. Long and slow. So you can hear her cry.”

Bucky’s head was yanked around once more and the woman’s eyes were open, frighteningly wide. She was thrashing behind the ice and her face was stretched. Her jaw fell open and – oh god – it kept going. It kept stretching and her mouth got wider, like an Edvard Munch painting. A strangled scream gargled into existence. Left, right, left, right. Her head was spinning. Blood poured from her mouth and her eyes – but her blood was on fire. She screamed his name as she burned. It was his fault. His fault. He could have saved her.

The two heads laughed and laughed and the tentacles worked their way around his neck. It hurt. Everything hurt. Why did everything have to hurt?

* * *

Up. Out. Down.

Bucky got up. He got out of the bedroom. He put his head down, into the sink. He pushed his hands under the faucet and splashed water onto his face. Cool, nice water. Not fire. Not blood. Not ice. Water. Water he could handle.

As he stumbled back into his bedroom, he looked at the scene on his bed. The bedclothes were ruched and messy – he’d been thrashing again – and his pillow was drowned in sweat. As he began to remove the pillow cases and change the bedding, he caught sight of the clock on his beside chest. Quarter to 7. Marvellous.

It was only supposed to be a nap but in under half an hour it had turned into a horrific nightmare.   
“You alright?” Steve asked when Bucky emerged from his room carrying the sheets. Apparently, he’d just finished tarting himself up for his date. “Your hair is wet. Did something happen?”   
“Just… a bad dream. Need to cool off.”   
“Alright. I can take a rain check if you want to talk about it.”

Bucky shook his head and headed for the laundry basket at the end of the hall. The day before Bucky might have let it go. He would’ve sat down with Steve and told him everything. About Bobby’s real identity, about the fact that she survived the explosion, and that he was searching to see if she’d survived HYDRA. After all, until that day he’d been holding onto a _dead_ woman’s secrets.

Until that day.

“I’ll talk to you after, I promise. It’s not every day you get a date.” He joked. Steve rolled his eyes.   
“If you want to-”  
“I’m going to head to Natasha’s. She wanted to meet up anyway. I’ll have a drink and relax, you can enjoy your date, and we can talk afterwards if you want.”   
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Buck-”

But Bucky was already leaving. He pulled on a pair of shoes and grabbed his leather jacket from the end of the sofa.   
“Just do me a favour, Rogers.”  
“Anything.” Steve said, leaning in the doorway as he watched Bucky head for the elevator.   
“Undo your top button. You look way too uptight.” He winked as the lift doors shut.

* * *

Natasha answered the door in sweats and a vest. Her hair was up, a bowl of Chinese food was in her hand, and she looked pissed.   
“It’s 7 o’clock, Barnes. You’d better have a good reason for this.”   
“You texted me, remember?” He smirked. With a roll of her eyes, she stepped aside.   
“Help yourself to the spring rolls. I think they’re still hot. The guy at the Chinese place gave ‘em to me free but I can’t get past the smell.”

Bucky knew what she was really talking about. For some reason, Natasha could go from being incredibly blunt to incredibly cryptic and today she was playing the latter. Underneath the small pot of steaming food was a folder that looked moderately full. Bucky lowered himself into her sofa – which was far lower than he liked – and opened the folder delicately. Why was everything in paper files and folders nowadays?

He decided to help himself to a spring roll as punishment for Natasha’s ambiguousness. She leant against the wall, using chopsticks to lift noodles into her mouth. Bucky never could use chopsticks.   
“I’ve collated everything I could find. SHIELD didn’t have a lot.” Blunt Natasha was back apparently. “But it linked me to the right HYDRA files and set me up to find the rest on my own. She’s laying pretty low but I don’t actually think she’s in hiding.”

Bucky looked at the images Natasha had found. He definitely didn’t regret telling her about it. She’d done him proud, more than he ever could’ve found on his own, especially with Steve so close.   
“Finally pinned her down to an address.” Natasha said, walking over to Bucky’s side and slumping onto the sofa next to him. She kicked her feet up onto the table. “Should be on a post-it at the back, next to some of the photos I got.”   
“You took photos?” She shrugged.   
“Just a bit of surveillance. Double-checking it was her in the apartment.”

Bucky lifted the photos up to the light. They were a bit grainy but little features gave it away. His memories of her were faded. Her face was either disguised, an amalgamation of what he’d read in the Smithsonian, or what he’d seen in his nightmares. But one thing remained constant in all of those.

Her eyes.

And those same eyes stared past the camera into the distance of the picture. It was her. Bucky leaned over and pecked Natasha’s cheek.   
“You’re a star.”   
“Could you tell that to Clint once in a while? Stop him picking on me.”   
“Something tells me you could shut him up if you wanted to.” Bucky said, standing up with the folder and making for the door.   
“You owe me one.” She smirked.   
“I’ll get Steve to look over that list you’ve got.”   
“Done.”

Bucky shut the door behind him and couldn’t help but smile. He’d found her. Well, Natasha had found her – but that wasn’t the point. He picked up the address on the post-it note and made for his bike. This wasn’t something that could wait. He couldn’t sleep through one more nightmare when he could live his dream right now.

But alas, as was so often the way of the cruel world, Bucky’s efforts were in vain. Despite ringing the bell several times, there was no response.   
“That’s alright,” he told himself on the trudge down the gravel driveway, “there’s always tomorrow. It’s not like she’ll be gone forever. You can wait until tomorrow.”

Before setting off home, Bucky pulled out his phone. A message from Steve.   
_Tell Nat I said hi._ With a smirk, Bucky slowly tapped out a response.   
_on my way back hows the date_

He cringed at the lack of punctuation but reminded himself the hassle trying to swap keyboards had caused. Much quicker to just avoid it altogether.   
_Going great! She’s still here. Come say hi._

Bucky made no response but mounted his bike. He didn’t know how to feel about the invitation. Of course he wanted to be polite. Maybe this girl was as fantastic as Steve made out. Maybe they really hit it off and Natasha no longer needed her list. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression.

That being said, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk. As he unlocked the door to the apartment, he concocted all of the different ways he could politely say “please excuse me, I must be going” (and some less polite ways too, just for good measure).

When Bucky entered the apartment, however, the last person he ever expected to see was sat on his sofa.

You stood when you saw the door open and smiled nervously, not entirely sure how to react. There he was. Right in front of you. Staring with an open mouth. He looked different to how you imagined, not at all the same as the image in your head.   
“Hi… Uh, hello.” You stammered. “No, sorry, hold on, I can do that better.”

Bucky said nothing. He stared at you, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. You were here; you’d found _him_. He crossed the room and took your head in his hands, planting his lips over yours and doing what he’d wanted to do for 70 years. What he’d thought about, dreamed about.

Although, when he dreamt it, you’d never fought back.

And Steve certainly hadn’t been there – calling out in protest:  
“Bucky, what the hell are you doing?”


	7. Take What I Had

Bucky felt Steve’s hands pull him back and the expression he was met with felt worse than any nightmare ever could. Your face was filled with a myriad of emotions. Confusion, disgust, and worst of all, fear. He could feel the tentacles wrapping themselves around his throat…

Steve dragged Bucky to the corridor, throwing him into his room and shutting the door.   
“I don’t often get mad at you,” he began, “so I’m going to try not to. You tell me what you think is going on, and I will tell you why you’re wrong.”

The blonde’s jaw was jutted out painfully far and his breathing was heavy. He was trying so hard to stop himself going ballistic. Bucky held out his hands, placating.   
“I… I think we’ve both got the wrong end of the stick.”   
“Yeah, I think so.” Steve growled.   
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, and that has led to one big misunderstanding.”   
“Enlighten me. What is it? Have you been dating her on the side?” Steve’s face suddenly dropped. “Is… Is she cheating on you with me? Oh god, Bucky I’m so-”

Bucky winced and shook his head again.   
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He insisted. The last thing he needed was Steve apologising to him. That would be a whole new level of guilt. However, the risk of having been in the wrong had done enough to stifle Steve’s anger for now.   
“Go on. Explain.” He invited Bucky, lowering himself onto the bed.

“It’s, uh… It’s going to sound crazy.” He said and Steve, surprisingly, grinned.   
“About as crazy as spending 70 years in the ice or stuck as HYDRA’s prisoner?”   
“Literally that crazy. In fact, exactly that crazy.”

Steve’s brow lowered.   
“You’re not saying… You’re not making any sense, Buck.”   
“That girl… That girl out there… It’s Bobby. Robert Miller, from the Commandos. It’s him. Her… Him.”

For a moment, the silence felt as though it might suffocate him. But Bucky forced himself to stay quiet, focusing on Steve’s face and trying to deduce what he was thinking. He used to be so good at this.   
“I don’t… He survived? Or… _she_? No, I still don’t understand.”   
“Bobby was never a guy, Steve.” Bucky said, getting to his knees. “She’d disguised herself as a woman to get in, like her brothers. I kept it a secret so she could stay on the team. It’s all she wanted.”

“That’s… That’s impossible!” Steve said, though his anxious laughter told Bucky he didn’t quite believe himself. He pulled out the file from his jacket pocket. It was rolled up and not exactly the best quality but it would do. He opened it up and took out certain photos. Documents. Written accounts.   
“When the Skull arrived, they found her body. All burned up and barely salvageable. But she was alive. They took her in and kept her captive. Experimenting on her, trying to perfect the serum they used on us. Hell, they even perfected skin grafting in the process. She looked just as I remember her – and that was the worst part. When they couldn’t use her as a weapon, they used her to make one. They knew I’d recognise her and I’d act upon my instincts, so they kept her alive just to blackmail me.”    
“And you’ve spent all of this time tracking her down.”

“When HYDRA went down, there was a chance that she got out like I did. But there was also a chance they destroyed all loose ends. I just… I had to know. So I enlisted Nat-”  
“You told Natasha?” Steve cried and Bucky’s head dropped.

“I meant to tell you Steve, I did but… I promised Bobby a long time ago that I wouldn’t say a word. I know it wouldn’t be so bad to say it now but I made a promise. When I thought I was chasing a ghost, that maybe HYDRA offed her when they went down, I was going to give up. I was going to tell you everything. But then Natasha called me and told me that she was alive and living, right here in New York. Hell, she lived around the corner!”

Steve seemed to be taking the news surprisingly well. He ran a hand through his hair.   
“I’m an idiot.” He muttered.   
“You’re not an idiot. You couldn’t have known-”  
“No, I mean… When I ran into her, I had to do a double-take. I thought then that it was because she was pretty but… it’s because she looked familiar.”

The boys stayed silent for a moment, drinking everything in. The air seemed thick with tension and neither of them knew what to do about it. You were still out there, thinking God knows what. At some point, he was going to have to encounter you again and he didn’t know what to do. What excuse could he concoct to explain his behaviour? Nothing decent sprung to mind. He also wanted to know what Steve was thinking. His expression was sullen and pensive, still coping with the barrage of information that had been unloaded on him. It was likely the last thing he anticipated when he’d plucked up the courage to ask you out.

“We should get back to her.” Steve moaned, standing up. “Poor thing will wonder where we’ve got to.”   
“You go. I am the last person she will want to see.”   
“I think I’d prefer to have you there actually. You knew her better than I did back in the day, so when we tell her that-”  
“What do you mean _when_ we tell her?” Bucky exclaimed.

Steve laughed incredulously.   
“You’re not… You’re not seriously suggesting we don’t tell her!” But Bucky’s face said it all. His eyes were low and his jaw clenched. “Buck, we can’t just hold onto information like this. She has to know.”   
“No, she doesn’t. Whoever she used to be, that’s not the same woman out there. It never will be. She was tortured and experimented on and hurt because of… well, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know who I thought she was.”  
“Then let’s remind her!” The blonde exclaimed, making for the door. Bucky, however, grabbed his wrist and held him back, plucking the file from his hand at the same time.   
“No, Steve. No.” He insisted. “She’s got a second chance now. To stay out of danger, to stay away from us, me.”

“Buck, if you think…” Steve whispered, shaking his head ever so gently as he understood. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved her. She wanted to be in that war! She wouldn’t have disguised herself if she didn’t. And frankly, let’s be honest, where would we have been without her? She saved our asses in that warehouse, did what no-one else would. It’s an insult to her memory if we let her forget it. If I’d have left you without memories, where would you be?”

Steve crossed the room with the intention of retrieving the file again but at the last minute Bucky recoiled.   
“No, this is different. She’s free. Of them, of me, of everything. I needed you but she doesn’t need us.”   
“Is she? Is she free? The past comes back to get us sooner or later. Nobody is ever free of that unless they choose to be. She has a right to know. To make that choice.”  
“Maybe.” Bucky said, turning towards the window of his bedroom. He’d only ever had a view of a brick wall, another building across the way, that culminated in an alleyway at the base. In the alleyway, he knew there to be two dumpsters.

He hoped that the file would land in one of them as he ripped it in two and tossed it out of the window.

Steve yelled and leant out of the frame after it, watching the contents of the folder float to the ground. He bowed his head before returning his gaze to Bucky.   
“But I won’t be the one to tell her. She’s safer now.”

“You’d let her live a lie – a charade – just because you’re afraid of what might happen if you tell the truth? HYDRA is gone, Bucky. I hate to be the one to tell you, but it is. HYDRA is gone and finished.”

“You thought that once before, and nearly died when you were wrong. I won’t take that chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I uploaded the previous chapter late, hence why you guys are getting two chapters in one day!


	8. War Amongst Men

You sat chewing your lap on the edge of the sofa, trying to piece together everything that had just happened. He’d kissed you. He’d walked in and kissed you. Why would he do that? Did you give off some sort of signal? Of course not. You weren’t _that_ socially inept.

You heard a door open and footsteps hesitantly making their way closer. Thankfully it was a more familiar face.   
“I think… I think you’re owed an explanation.”   
“I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to one.” You half-smiled.   
“Well, Bucky would apologise if he could, but he’s… uh, he’s holed up in his room from embarrassment.”

“He’s embarrassed?” You exclaimed.   
“Afraid so. You see, he’d had a bit to drink and, though he wasn’t drunk, he’d had enough to confuse you for his girlfriend. They’re going through a rough patch so-”  
“Say no more. If you want, I could go in and say-”  
“No, no!” Steve said, perhaps a little loudly. “No, that’s fine. I think you might just remind him of why he’s embarrassed. I don’t mean to kick you out but…”

You nodded and picked up your coat.   
“I completely understand.”

Steve walked to you to the door but before you left, you turned around, looking up at him.   
“Well… don’t be a stranger, okay? You’ve got my number.”   
“Yes ma’am.” He said with a mock salute. You gave a hushed laugh and bit your lip, looking up at him with a thin smile.

When you realised that he was not going make a move, you made one of your own, standing up on the balls of your feet and pressing a soft kiss into his cheek.   
“Goodnight then.” You whispered, clearing your throat and turning around. You prayed that you hadn’t made a fool of yourself. But if you’d have seen the way Steve touched his cheek afterwards with his lips parted and curling, you’d have known that you were quite the opposite.  

When you arrived at Steve Roger’s apartment block, the sun had just been peeking over the horizon. Now, however, the world was dark and cool. A gentle breeze followed you as you turned towards the bus stop. On your right was an alleyway teeming with litter that had been discarded not in the dumpsters, but next to it. Pieces of paper floated around on the floor as the feline wind teased and toyed with the string of paper.  

With a roll of your eyes and a sigh, you checked your watch. You had time. The bus wasn’t going to arrive for another ten minutes. Unfastening your coat, you kneeled and gathered up what looked to be photos. After collecting them together, you grasped a piece of paper with official looking emblems and writing on. You paid no attention to the contents – sifting through other people’s litter was not how you wanted to spend your evening.

It was only when you reached the folder that you stood up. Ripped entirely in two and spilling paper everywhere. Photos, documents – you named it. Shuffling around on the floor, you gathered everything into a pile and–

You stopped. You hadn’t meant to look. You had meant to just move it into the dumpster and move on, but… You only knew one person with a record player and a Bing Crosby vinyl.

One photo turned into another and another, and soon your shaking hands were moving through the entire file, searching the alleyway for parts that you’d missed, slowly piecing everything together…

* * *

Another night. Another nightmare. This was less violent but enough to wake Bucky without hope of drifting off again. He had been behind the ice this time. Screaming. Yelling. Beating his fists against the ice until they bled. On the other side, he could see (y/n) in water, holding her throat and struggling for breath. Floundering. Drowning. But somehow still on fire.

He shook his head to disperse his thoughts and poured the hot water on top of the tea bag. One of the fond memories that Bucky had regained was James Montgomery Falsworth – the sole British Howling Commando – ranting for half an hour straight on how to make a cup of tea correctly. He smiled at the thought. He would never make it any other way ever again lest Falsworth turn in his grave.

So caught up in his thoughts, was he, that Bucky almost missed the gentle knock at the door. Surely not…? Surely nobody could be visiting at this time of night. Despite wearing only a loose shirt and sweatpants, Bucky approached the door and twisted the handle.

He caught the back of your head just about to turn the corner and called out to you. He had acted without thinking, before thinking. What were you doing here? Why had you come back? And why in hell had he stopped you leaving? The last thing he needed was to relive the events from earlier that evening.

“The cleaner… he, uh, he left the door open…” Your small voice explained. “I didn’t mean to-”  
“I was awake anyway. Light sleeper.” Bucky explained. With obvious trepidation, you began to turn around and his heart sank.

Your eyes were red and puffed up, your face was equally warm in colour. Between your shaking hands were the shredded remains of photos and documents and evidence, slid into a haphazard pile for you to hold. Bucky looked between your hands and your eyes and back again, realising his mistake. Steve was right, he should’ve told you. This was not something you should’ve found out on your own, and it was selfish of him to think you shouldn’t have known at all.

“I… I remember now. Everything makes sense.” You stammered, with a voice like broken glass. Bucky frowned and dropped his head. “Well, not everything… but some things. Who I am, where I came from, things that happened… A lot of it’s there but-”  
“Not in the right order.” He sighed, and you nodded tentatively. “Like a broken record. Scratched, and skipping over parts. Replaying others.”   
“The needle’s stuck and jumping.”

Bucky stepped aside and silently entreated you to come back. He was grateful that you obliged him¸ it felt like the first steps to forgiveness. You were tired and confused, stumbling over your feet and almost knocking Bucky to the ground. He helped you to the couch and let you down slowly.   
“I just made tea.” He said, leaving abruptly with a hand in his hair. This was going to be rough.

As Bucky pulled out another mug from the cupboard, he saw a shadow moving in the corner of his eye. He turned to see Steve in just his boxers and a dressing gown creeping out of the corridor. He was gripping a baseball bat firmly and his expression was steadfast.   
“He’s got a shield and he picks up a baseball bat.” Bucky chuckled, pulling yet another mug down.   
“It was the first thing I found. I heard voices and banging.”   
“Going to take on a burglar in your underwear, were you?”   
“Would you rather I stopped to change?”

Steve leant the bat in the corner of the room and opened the fridge.   
“So what was with the commotion?” He asked, placing the milk bottle down on the counter. “Wait… three mugs?”

Bucky pointed to the sofa and Steve peered over the back of it. A small smile crept onto his face.   
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He whispered, picking up the mug and returning the teabag to the pot. When Bucky looked irritated, his friend placed a finger over his lips, and gestured with his head. Steve continued making the tea whilst Bucky crept to the couch. You had curled up at the end with the folder tucked into your stomach. You were breathing softly and looked as though you needed the sleep.

Reaching under the sofa, Bucky pulled out a blanket and draped it over you, retrieving the folder from your grasp at the last minute. When he returned to the kitchen, Steve handed him a mug of steaming tea.   
“You knew that she was a woman in disguise.” He stated, though it sounded more like a question.   
“I… Yeah, I did.”   
“And you kissed her.”   
“Yes.”

“How long did you know?”   
“Well, when she stood up and I saw her-”  
“No,” Steve hummed lightly. “No, that’s not what I meant. How long did you know back then? That she was a woman, I mean?”

Bucky sighed and placed his mug on the side. It seemed far too casual for the conversation they were about to have.   
“I found out when he… _she_ took that shrapnel in the gut. I carried her inside the tent and started helping the doc. So when he had to undress her to reach the wound, I was there. Doc told me straight away, asked me what I wanted to do.” Bucky smirked. “Strange, asking me what I wanted to do. As if it changed anything, as if he’d stop helping her. That was when I realised it didn’t really matter what she’d done. She was a part of that team whether we liked it or not.”

“But…” Steve sighed. “You still kept her secret. Even though you thought it didn’t matter.”   
“It’s what she wanted. Are you telling me that everyone on our team would’ve let her stay? Every _single_ one? That there wouldn’t have been someone who was doubtful or overprotective?”

Steve nodded slowly, but then frowned.   
“You still kissed her. Was there ever…? Did you two-?”  
“No!” Bucky blurted out, covering his mouth when he heard you shift on the sofa. “No. It was just…” He pictured you back in the infirmary tent, one of the few memories he still had of you. It was the moment he realised how he felt. His heart thumping and his head willing you to get better so that he might have more of a chance to be with you. Of course that chance never came.

“It was just…?” Steve leaned in, trying to decipher something from Bucky’s eyes.   
“Just… a crush. It meant nothing. The rush of emotions from finally seeing her again took over, I guess. I got impulsive.”

“We’ve only had coffee.” His friend said, speaking proudly. “We’re nothing serious yet, believe me.” _Yet._  
“That’s good to know.” Bucky said, risking a scolded tongue just so he wouldn’t have to make eye-contact for a moment.   
“If you want me to step away and-”  
“What?” The brunet lowered his mug.   
“I don’t want to screw you over, punk. If you like this girl then-”

“Hey, hey, woah.” Bucky insisted, placing his mug down with shaking hands. “What we might have had together was all in the past. We’ve both changed and… so has our relationship, obviously.”   
“It might just be fleeting, but I do like her. And I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I liked her when I met her and I like her still. So if you’re sure…”

This was it. The last moment. No turning back now. Bucky could see by the look in his eyes that Steve was willing to accept whatever answer he was given. It just depended on what that was. Every selfish and impetuous thought in his head told him to speak up, to say something and keep them apart, but at what cost? Destroy a very obvious attraction for a chance at something that has never been? That might not ever be? Bucky was not that conceited. Steve was his friend, and he was not about to get in the way of his chance at happiness. Even if it meant sacrificing his own. Bucky had been tortured and experimented on. He was a very different person now and he was sure that he was making the right decision.

“I promise you, Steve. I feel absolutely nothing anymore for (y/n). Everything I felt was just… lust. A fleeting attraction. A dalliance. HYDRA wiped it out of me, and they drove it out of her, I’m sure. She’s… She’s fair game, and you asked first.” Mustering a smile, he let Steve pat him twice appreciatively on the shoulder.

Bucky Barnes was very happy that Steve believed him. He just hoped that in time, he would believe it himself.


	9. Forbearance

The next morning couldn’t come quick enough. Both Steve and Bucky were anxious for you to wake up, to speak with you and find out how much you knew. Bucky had gone to his room and pulled out all of his notebooks and photo albums with everything he’d collated over the years. His notebooks were teeming with scribbles and drawings, that only seemed to make sense to him. Sometimes they were nonsense, fragments of thought that linked up with something on another page entirely, and sometimes they were sketches which varied from the tangible to the downright dark. His thoughts had been scattered but those notebooks, along with Steve’s support, had ultimately been his salvation.

He hoped it might offer the same peace of mind to you too. He placed the pile down onto the coffee table and left them there, moving to the kitchen to help with breakfast. Sam had taught them both early on how to make a “proper” breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, toast – it was all there, accompanied by Falsworth’s “proper” tea.

They might have gone a bit overboard with the food but their current levels of paranoia left them eager to impress. Plates upon plates were eventually dished up and slowly they moved everything in front of you, hoping the smell might stir you awake, and they were right.

Your eyes opened to the sight of Steve who was sat on the coffee table in front of you in sweats and a jumper.   
“Morning, sleepy head.” He chuckled.   
“Steve, I-”  
“Don’t worry. Bucky told me everything. How’re you feeling?”

“My eyes hurt. I’m regretting having cried so much.”  
“It was a perfectly natural response. You can’t be expected to cope with information like that.” You nodded and tried to sit up, but felt stiff all over.    
“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
“Well, I- I didn’t know.” Steve laughed softly but your expression quietened him. Even Bucky, who was sat in the windowsill further behind, looked confused. “That was the point of dressing up. I wasn’t supposed to know.”   
“I know that but I just assumed…” you stared at Bucky and your mouth fell open slightly, “I assumed he would’ve told you after I… You know.”

Bucky cleared his throat and turned away, staring out of the window. Nonetheless, he heard you whisper.   
“After all this time? You never said a word?” He cleared his throat and mumbled:  
“You asked me not to, so I didn’t.”

After a little more talking, Steve discerned how much you actually remembered. A lot of it was there – it had all come flooding back when you saw some of the war documents. The file had also contained some photos of the exhibit in the Smithsonian, jogging more memories too. HYDRA had fabricated an elaborate lie as to your existence – you were homeless, simply plucked off of the street for your resemblance to another. You had believed them too, until then.

* * *

A few hours later, Steve sat by your side and stretched the largest photo album across both his and your lap. Meanwhile, Bucky sat in his room reading a book. Except he’d read the same page 4 times and not _actually_ read it. His mind couldn’t focus. He was everywhere and nowhere at once.

A gentle knock at the door seemed a blessing, a reason to stop pretending like he was actually busy. “How’s it going?” Bucky asked, though Steve looked solemn as he stepped inside.   
“Fine, I guess.”   
“Just fine?”   
“Well, it’s good for the most part. Things from back then are easier for her to grasp. She remembers certain things in excruciating detail but then other things are blurry. Most of them are fond memories though. I’m just there to piece it back together in the right order and give a little more clarity where I can.”   
“So what’s the problem?”

Steve winced and lowered himself onto the end of Bucky’s bed.   
“I… I don’t know all of it, Buck. Everything she went through in HYDRA, she needs someone who was there and…” He sighed. “You know I wouldn’t ask you to relive that part of your life unless I needed you to but…”

Bucky frowned and closed his book. He ran a hand through his hair, already beginning to feel dizzy at the thought.   
“What does she remember already?”  
“Not a lot, I’m afraid. She can’t ever see anything. It’s always pitch black, but she knows she’s awake and she can feel everything. Everything hurts: that’s what she keeps repeating. She wants to know what happened to her and… that’s something I don’t know how to help with.”  
“I can’t put her through that experience again.” Bucky said bluntly.   
“Buck, she needs-

The brunet held up his hands.   
“No, you’re not listening. I _can’t_ do it. I’ve only just pieced everything together myself, and even then I don’t know if that’s made it better or worse. Every night I’ll wake up with visions of the things I’ve seen – the horrors. I couldn’t even begin to describe those scenes to her; where do I start? It’s reached a point where there’s no difference between what’s real and what’s a nightmare.”  
“I’m not saying it would be easy but-”   
“You’re still not listening!” Bucky cried, standing up. He approached the door and held it wide open. Steve got the message. “If I thought I could do it, I would. But it’s not fair to tell her something that might not be the truth, rather just a figment of my twisted imagination. I won’t inflict that upon her. I just won’t. _I can’t._ ”

Begrudgingly, Steve nodded and left the room. When Bucky had closed the door, he groaned and leant his head against the wood, resisting the urge to bang his head against it. He could hear the gentle murmur of conversation down the hall and in an attempt to ignore it, Bucky threw himself onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow. Slowly he drifted off.

When he finally woke again, it had just gone 7. He trudged out of his bedroom and wondered if he was going to have to cook. He liked being in the kitchen, where everything was precise and organised and tidy. No mess, no clutter. Cooking was a very exact art and one of the few creative activities he enjoyed.

Well, so much for exact and tidy, Bucky thought as he entered the main room. Your thought process was fragmented and so the only way for you to apparently visualise it was to spread it out across the floor. Documents and photos and books and drawings; all in little platoons on the carpet. Some were just one type of memory, but others had mixtures of the each – whatever made sense in your head. You’d also pinned several sheets of paper to the wall with a significant gap in the middle. Bucky knew a timeline when he saw one. Despite the onslaught of paper covering his home, there was a uniformity to it that he recognised.

You had kept the blanket from last night and put it around your shoulders. You sat cross-legged in the epicentre of your organised chaos and stared at one of Bucky’s old notebooks with interest. He noticed the steaming mug in your hands and decided to use the newly-boiled kettle for himself.   
“Steve went out to get Chinese food.” You called out and Bucky winced. He’d apparently not been as quiet as he had hoped to be.

“Okay. Are you hungry?”   
“Not really, but I guess I should eat.” You said. Bucky knew that feeling: too mentally exhausted to focus on anything else. When your thoughts were so scattered, it was hard to see anything else as important. Thankfully, it looked like Steve was taking good care of you. That made Bucky feel better.

“I think I owe you some thanks.” You said. “I know that Steve has been trying to, uh, _decipher_ them but he didn’t really need to. These notebooks have made more sense than he ever could and I just wanted to thank you for writing them.”   
“You don’t have to thank me.” Bucky said as he walked to your side. You had truly spread everything out. He sipped his coffee and perused the arrangement of your notes.   
“Yes, I do. They’ve been so helpful.”   
“No, really, you don’t have to. I wrote them for me. It was in case I forgot things and needed a reminder. I just thought you might like to borrow them.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding and turning back to your current reading material, “well, thank you anyway.” Bucky winced and groaned quietly to himself before lowering himself to the floor where Steve had likely been sitting by your side.   
“Sorry, that sounded… I’m not good with my words sometimes.”

You laughed softly.   
“You used to be.”   
“Yes, I think I did.” He smirked. Remembering who he used to be – even how he looked – felt like he looking at a stranger. Bucky Barnes used to funny and strong and charismatic. Now he just felt… hollow. A bad imitation of who he used to be.   
“Do you ever miss who you were?” You sighed, letting your head fall into your hand as you looked at the notebook.   
“What?”   
“Maybe it’s just me then. But it feels like this is all pointless.” He noted the look in your eyes – it was the same look he’d had earlier. Reading but not _reading_. “Like I can make all the timelines in the world, dig up all the memories, and I still-”  
“-won’t be the exactly the same.”

You chuckled nervously and covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders slumped and Bucky resisted the urge to place an arm around them in comfort.   
“It’s okay, you know?” Bucky continued, hoping to quell your fears. His own fear was that he’d say the wrong thing again. “We might be a bit broken, a bit different, a bit empty in places, but we can’t go through something like that and be unscathed. Unchanged. I think we should be happy that we came out at all. A lot of people wouldn’t.”  
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” You sighed. “Still, it’s not exactly an incentive to keep going with this, is it?”

Bucky hummed lightly and leaned over, staring at his own handwriting before closing the notebook. You looked up at him with a thin mouth.   
“There’s still something you’re missing and you won’t read it in there.” He frowned.   
“Bucky, please don’t-”   
“I was a little concerned about this but… I figure we can go through it together.”

“Please, I don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” You stammered but Bucky took your hand and gave it a squeeze.”   
“It won’t be easy but I don’t mind giving it a go. If I can’t carry on, you’ll know about it.” He chuckled anxiously, grateful to feel your grip on his hand tightening. You remembered reading about his experience with HYDRA. Isolated. Afraid. Numb.   
“You’re safe now, so am I.”

Are you? Bucky thought. Are you really safe? With me?

* * *

When Steve came home, he found you both asleep. Bucky lay across the floor, dislodging various papers and books, whilst you lay parallel. Was it even worth getting food for them? He mused to himself. After peering over your sleeping forms, he noted that new things had been added to the timeline. Dark things. Things he could never have imagined. As well as that, there were other additions; general bullet points and random words – some he understood, others that made no sense. Those that stuck out were HYDRA and a brief description of its fall. He noted the description of a campfire closer to the beginning.

Whilst he was leaning over you, he noticed that your hand was tangled loosely with Bucky’s and smiled weakly. After correcting his posture, Steve stood up. He dropped the bag of food loudly by your heads and watched both of your eyes snap open.

“Well hello there, sleepy heads.” 


	10. Compass

Bucky liked to sit in the windowsill. When it was sunny out, he could feel the warmth penetrating the glass and warming him up all over, as well as providing him excellent reading light. If it was raining, he found the sound of water throwing itself against the windowpane to be oddly therapeutic. Moonlight always hit the window nicely too. There was no downside. It was his favourite place to be.

Steve had pushed the coffee table to the far wall that morning, allowing for you and him to sit in the centre of the floor and spread out as usual. Bucky was happily tucked away on the edge of the chaos, raised above it in the window seat with a book resting on his knees, a pillow behind his back, and warmth upon his shoulders. The evening sun was beginning to set and it was providing ample light upon the pages.

However, due to Steve’s preoccupation, Bucky was forced to abandon his tranquillity in order to answer the door when someone knocked at it. Hence Natasha’s disgruntled reception.   
“Oh, like you were busy.” She huffed, waltzing past him.   
“I might have been. You don’t know.”   
“What is this time? Wind in the Willows?”   
“What do you want Natasha?”

With a smirk, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a parcel wrapped in brown paper. It was roughly the size of a toaster.   
“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Just some cash, _The Rough Guide to New York City_ by Martin Dunford, and a £50 voucher for Hot Topic.”  
“She’s rediscovered her identity, Nat. She’s not a fugitive tourist.”  
“I didn’t say they were good gifts.” She muttered. “You’re so ungrateful.”

Steve stood and trotted over to the kitchen where his two friends had congregated. He asked curtly why she was visiting and Nat described the contents of her package for a second time.   
“Oh, that’s amazing. Thank you so much.” Natasha glared at Bucky with an expression that said ‘ _now, that’s gratitude_ ’. “I’ll take it to (y/n) now. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Natasha’s countenance suddenly changed. She looked confused and concerned. Opening her mouth, she looked between the two men repeatedly, though Steve was none the wiser. He knelt next to you and explained what the gift was. Before Natasha could voice her concerns, she was having her hand shaken thoroughly.   
“I know it shouldn’t mean this much – I’ve been in this century long enough now – but it does. It really does.” You said, alongside various other expressions of appreciation.

After you were properly introduced, you thanked Natasha some more.   
“I was meaning to head home today anyway, so I can add this to my bookshelf and put the cash in my savings. Honestly, thank you so much.”   
“It was nothing… Really. I’m serious – please don’t bring it up again.” Natasha grumbled, and your smile wavered. The redhead was staring with narrow eyes over your shoulder at Bucky who chewed his lip a safe distance away, leaning against the wall.  

Steve put his arm around your shoulders and chuckled lightly.   
“Don’t worry. Nat can be a little stern but she means well.”   
“I do mean well. Unless I’m pissed off.” She growled. Bucky cast his eyes to the floor.

“Apparently she got up on the wrong side of the bed today too. Come on, I’ll walk you home whilst she cools off. I won’t be too long, Buck. I’ll pick up some groceries on the way back.” Steve smiled before leaving to fetch your coats. You took the opportunity to speak to Bucky.   
“I can come back tomorrow if that’s alright. I just need a shower and some fresh clothes.”   
“Of course that’s alright,” he smiled briefly, avoiding Natasha’s fearsome stare, “I’ll see you then.”

You whispered goodbye to him once more before Steve swept you away and shut the door behind you. Bucky was left alone with Natasha Romanoff – who was incredibly confused and angry. A fatal combination.   
“What the hell was that, Barnes?”   
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He muttered, trying to escape to his spot on the window sill.   
“I didn’t bust my hump for 4 months tracking her down so that you could give her up! What happened?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and slumped on the edge of the window seat.   
“Didn’t you see? She’s with Steve.”  
“Trained assassin, SHIELD agent, avenger: yes, I noticed she was with Steve. I’m asking you _why_.” Natasha lowered herself next to him, attempting to take on a more compassionate tone.   
“Because…”  
“That’s not an answer. Don’t be childish.”

When Bucky still refused to say anything, Natasha took a minute to resist shouting. Taking a deep breath, she attempted a different approach.   
“When you came to me, you told me more about her than I’d ever heard you speak about anything, least of all your past. At first I was honoured, then I started to wonder how much this girl meant to you. When you talked about her, your eyes lit up like I’ve never seen. It was… amazing.”   
“What’s your point, Nat?”   
“My point is: I knew then how you felt about her then. And I’m rarely wrong about these things. Don’t make me tarnish my track record.”

Bucky sighed and his shoulders slumped.   
“I… I might’ve done… Once upon a time.”  
“That’s it? I thought you liked her.”   
“I did like her – I mean, I do like her but… it’s tricky.”

Natasha placed an arm around him and for a moment, he thought she genuinely intended to comfort him – until he felt her hand strike the side of his head.   
“If you like her, then why the hell aren’t you doing anything about it?”   
“Because I was too late! 70 years too late.”   
“That’s no excuse.” Bucky groaned and stood up, narrowly avoiding another slap.   
“Why is this so important to you?”

Natasha smiled and shrugged.   
“I’m an assassin. It’s my job to spy and snoop and get involved in other people’s businesses.”   
“There’s more to it than that.”   
“Alright then. It’s a matter of pride. You came to see me with this job, and though you can try and deny it, you wanted a certain outcome. This isn’t it. I’m here to finish the job. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re trying to avoid the subject.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. After a gentle sigh, he conceded and revealed all. From the parts she’d already heard when he initially approached her, to the story of how you and Steve had met outside the art store. By the end of it, he’d crumpled onto the sofa opposite her, his head in his hands and his voice a murmur.   
“He didn’t even know who she was. Just got a familiar feeling that he put down to attraction. Asked her out and then she turned up here. There was nothing I could do, okay? It was out of my hands so just don’t…” Bucky closed his eyes and slumped back into the sofa, “don’t beat me up about it…”

“And so you’re just ignoring everything you feel? Hoping it will go away completely?”   
“Basically. That’s what I’m running with, yeah.”

Natasha scoffed.   
“Well that’s a crap plan. I saw the way you looked at each other. The way you interacted. Hell, you were making Bucky-dog eyes the entire time.”   
“ _Bucky-dog eyes?_ You’ve been spending too much time with Barton.”   
“And you’ve been spending too much time with Steve.” Natasha was suddenly on her feet, and approaching him fast. She knelt in front of the sofa and looked him dead in the eye. “If you think this is chivalrous or brave or honest, you’re wrong.” He leant forward with an incredulous smile on his face.   
“I’m being dishonest by letting my best friend fall for the girl he likes?”

“You’re being dishonest by telling yourself that _you_ don’t care for her. Now go and fix this before she deludes herself into thinking the same.” Bucky didn’t quite know how to respond. Natasha was talking as if his feelings were mutual! But she’d only met you once. How could she know? He sat in silence for a while longer until she was forced to speak again. She placed a hand on his shoulder and regained Bucky’s attention.   
“I’m telling you this as a teammate and a friend: you’re an idiot. Now go and win her over before I hit you again.”

“Yes, Natasha. So friendly.” 


	11. Deception

Bucky didn’t really get a choice in the matter, after Natasha pushed him out of the front door and locked it behind him. He couldn’t hear precisely what she was saying on the other side but he could guess.

Shrugging his jacket on a little tighter, Bucky braced the cold wind looking like the perfect brooding teenager. Hands in his pockets, head low, and a pensive expression. He made to turn left and head for the shops where Steve would be – until he felt something hit the back of his head. After swearing, Bucky whirled around, clutching the spot that would likely be tender for the next few days.

Natasha leaned out of the window, poised to throw something else – a book of some kind – until she saw Bucky scowling at her. She pointed fiercely in the other direction and begrudgingly, Bucky followed orders, mumbling expletives under his breath. It didn’t take him long to reach your home. He spent a few minutes just watching, wondering whether or not to go in.

After HYDRA fell, those sworn to it scattered like rats. You were abandoned until you finally figured out that no-one was coming to get you anymore. This much you had told Bucky. After that, you’d lived on the streets, where you believed you had been pulled from, hiding what had happened to you for fear of being taken again. Eventually, however, you’d decided enough was enough. Whether it was your Howling Commando determination or simply your underlying stubbornness, you decided that enough was enough. A company had a program specifically for hiring the homeless which you worked hard to secure a place in. After showing a tenacity for team management and marketing, you were promoted, received a pay rise, and never looked back.

As he stared at your home from the other side of the street, Bucky contemplated turning around. Natasha wouldn’t know if he walked the long way round to the supermarket, and she’d probably be gone by the time he got back (or have made herself at home with a cup of tea and whatever was left in the fridge, a scenario which wasn’t impossible). However, before he could decide whether or not to move any closer, the door opened by itself and you walked out, dragging a large black trash bag behind you. Sighing, Bucky dropped his head, smiled, and crossed the road.

“Don’t tell me you’re hiding a body in there?” He joked. You turned to see him and beamed.   
“That depends. Will you help me hide it?” Bucky smiled and took his hands out of his pockets to grab the other end of the bag.   
“Just tell me where.”

After disposing of the bin bag, you followed Bucky back to your front door.   
“So did you come here just to help me with my chores or…?” Bucky chuckled.  
“No, I actually… I actually came here to, uh…” He could feel Natasha’s gaze pressuring him but for some reason he just couldn’t get the words out. “I wanted to say that- well, actually I was told to tell you that-” You laughed quietly and Bucky looked up. Why were you smiling?    
“I think you need something to drink. Come on, I’ll put the kettle on.”

“No, really- I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to say-”  
“You’re not going to say anything if you keep stammering like that.” You laughed, holding the door open and beckoning him inside. “Nothing is better for loosening the tongue than a coffee with too much sugar, and cookies that may or may not be out of date. Besides, it’s about time I made a drink for you rather than the other way around.”

* * *

Bucky felt incredibly nervous, sat on your sofa, looking around your home, and seeing all the little tell-tale signs.   
“Strange, isn’t it?” You called from the kitchen which was tucked away down a corridor. “I didn’t notice it all until I came home for the first time. I always thought I was an old soul but… I never thought it would be quite so literal.”   
“Little bits of history hidden in plain sight.” He hummed. You nodded as you returned to the room with two mugs.   
“Record players, black and white photos, and far too many history books. I guess that’s why it was easy for everything to come rushing back when I found that file.”

Bucky did _not_ want to talk about that file. He still felt guilty for having tried to hide your past from you. He was still afraid that your finding out would put you in danger, but from who? HYDRA was gone. SHIELD was no more. Hell, only 3 of the Howling Commandos were still alive. There was nobody left to find them. Perhaps that was what worried him. Bucky had always been fighting. Fighting for safety, fighting for secrets, or fighting for his life. Now that there was nothing or no-one left to fight, it felt just as unnerving – if not more so. At least when you were in the fight, you knew what was coming.

You’d been sat in silence as Bucky thought these things to himself. You only broke it when you felt the need to, with a thought you’d been having for a very long time.   
“Me and Steve,” you began and suddenly you had his attention. Except, he looked anxious, rather than attentive. “I…I… I don’t think Steve and I were that close, were we?”

Bucky cleared his throat and sipped from his tea. He was trying to look casual and calm –  but he was failing. _  
_“Well… he had to lead the team. He couldn’t be having favourites.”  
“But _we_ were closer, weren’t we?” Bucky said nothing, focusing more and more on his drink. You, however, abandoned yours on the table. “I mean there’re no pictures of me – probably because I didn’t want my little secret getting out – but the photos with you in just look… familiar. Like I know where I should be in relation to them – behind the camera, or on the side lines. Your eyes are always somewhere and I can’t help but feel like they’re looking at me.”

Bucky’s heart was suddenly racing and he placed his mug down too in order to try and distract himself. Except when he brought his hands back into his lap, they were shaking and warm. You shuffled slightly closer trying to keep his concentration on you. You couldn’t refrain from asking any longer, you’d been wanting to ask for so long.   
“I couldn’t be sure if the memory was right. You never mentioned it so I just assumed I’d made it up but… I can’t get it out of my head.” Bucky’s eyes widened and you noted the quickening of his breath. _  
_“What memory?” _  
_“Well, it’s tricky to say exactly but-” __  
“No, tell me. Please. I have to hear you say it, because I don’t think I can say it myself. I don’t know if I believe it either. I… I think it’s the same reason I came to see you but I thought- I thought-”

You placed your hands either side of Bucky’s face and placed a long and gentle kiss on his lips.   
“You thought?”   
“Well, I definitely thought you wouldn’t do that.”

With a smile, you kissed Bucky once more and this time he kissed you back, sliding his arms around your hips and pulling you closer. Any anxieties between the two of you were all but forgotten. The kiss was sweet and tender and everything you’d imagined feeling. Breathless and longing. He met your attentions with fervour and smiled wider and wider against your lips. Your hands lowered to his collar bone and he moved one to your neck, where he could touch you as you kissed.

Throughout all of your memories and spaces of thought, one thing had remained constant. Bucky. When you got hit with the shrapnel, when you’d asked him to keep your secret, even when you were in HYDRA’s grasp – his face was iridescent, breaking through the fog and keeping you grounded.

The day you’d realised your identity, all of those thoughts had come rushing back and there had been no stopping them. Every day you worked with Steve, you’d asked questions about Bucky, in the hope it would reveal more about yourself. It had been the right approach except for the fact it had revealed previous feelings and emotions you thought to be long forgotten.

Bucky felt much the same. He’d been denying this for so long that he couldn’t help but think too loudly when it finally happened. In his head he was shouting. Yelling. Dancing. I am free, I am free! The nightmare has ended. He was in ecstasy.

Until he woke up the next morning.

Warm sunlight poured through the window, with no curtains to stop it. Bucky watched the dust dance in the rays of sunshine and wished his thoughts could be as peaceful. His left arm was tucked behind his head and the other resting on his torso. From the waist down, a thin sheet covered his form.

The cover shifted around him as you rolled over in your sleep, reminding Bucky of your presence. In fact, he was hit with the sudden realisation of many things – where he was, who he was with, what he had done… Rolling onto his side, he came face to face with you and smiled sadly. Your expression was blissful and soft, and your eyes fluttered gently in your sleep. Pushing some hair out of your face, Bucky kissed your nose with a sleepy smile. He let his fingers trace down you shoulder and draw circles on your forearm, trying to bask in the moment.

However, his thoughts had gone awry. This was wrong. He shouldn’t have done this. With a thin mouth, he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger as long as he could get away with, before rolling completely over and kicking his legs over the edge of the bed. His clothes were discarded in a small pile and each garment he picked up reminded him of what had happened. He had to leave before this ate him up inside.

By the time you woke, Bucky Barnes was gone.


	12. Guilt Ridden Again

Steve whistled to himself as he put the keys in the lock. According to Natasha, Bucky had gone out for the night with Clint meaning that Steve was in the rare circumstance in which the door to his apartment was actually locked. Thankfully he had remembered to take a key with him.

He always felt better after a jog and today was no exception. The sun was out but there was a gentle breeze accompanying it. Perfect. He’d also handed Sam’s ass to him – again – which was always a cause for celebration. Maybe he’d let himself have something unhealthy from the fridge as a–

The door swung open before Steve could unlock it and he came face to face with a very conflicted looking Bucky Barnes. He was biting his lip and his eyes shifted constantly between him and the floor.  
“Buck?” He whispered. “When did you get back? Nat said-”

“I’ve done a bad thing, Steve.” He interrupted, his voice low and hushed. “A very bad thing.”

* * *

“Hand me that book.” Steve ordered.  
“What? Why?”  
“Because I’m going to batter you with it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve yelled, as he hit Bucky multiple times on the shoulder, arms, and torso with a copy of Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook. He landed a blow with every word. Bucky lifted his arms to shield himself, even after the book had been discarded and the only threat to his health was his best friend’s furious scowl.

“I thought you liked her!”  
“Never mind, get me a heavier book. I don’t think the first one worked.”  
“Okay, okay!” Bucky yielded, stumbling backwards and sitting himself on the coffee table to explain. "I thought you deserved her. After everything I’d been through, all that I’d done, I felt broken and different. You were still _you_ and she deserved some stability in her life. After everything that happened, I still… blamed myself.”

Steve’s face softened and he laughed lightly, sitting himself down next to Bucky. “Don’t you get it?” He continued to chuckle. “She’s been mad about you from the start. She told me shortly afterward about this campfire you two set up back in the day. It was set in her head as the day she first fell for you. She told me how she felt and how she didn’t want to hurt my feelings by carrying on.”  
“But that’s… That’s not the point, I shouldn’t have done what I did.”  
“Oh, _really_ Bucky? Did you really think she’d sleep with you if she was serious about me? You two… are amazing together. You work. Let’s be honest, I don’t know her, I don’t understand her like you do, I never did. Even back then I was too preoccupied to realise who she was, what she was doing.”

Steve laughed breathily and looked down.  
“She’s yours, Buck. Always has been. She’s been waiting for you to step in but you were always too cautious, trying to help me rather than help yourself as per usual.”

Bucky looked at Steve with an appreciate smile. Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.  
“Now, I think it’s about time you apologised to (y/n), don’t you?”  
“Apologised?”

“Buck, you slept with her and then scrammed. Left her to wake up alone. How’s that going to look?”  
“I hadn’t thought about that.”  
“Well, you’re a little out of practice.” Steve chuckled, standing and collecting his keys. Bucky looked up with a raised brow. “What, you think after all of this that I’m not coming to watch? Uh uh, think again.”

* * *

Bucky picked up a stone from the gravel driveway and rolled it in his hand a moment before tossing it at your window. Steve put a hand over his eyes with a sigh as he watched the stone sail through a window that Bucky had thought was closed. He stood not too far away, on the other side of the street.

You appeared seconds later at the window with the pebble between your fingers. Bucky smiled up at you but was forced to take cover seconds later as you lobbed the stone down and hit him squarely between the eyes. You always had been a good shot.  
“That hurt!” He called up.  
“Good! Go home, Barnes.”

Calling him ‘Barnes’ definitely couldn’t be a good sign. Steve watched on like it was his suddenly favourite TV programme.  
“(Y/n), please, I-”  
“Take a hike.” You said, whirling around and heading inside.  
“I told Steve!”

There was a minute’s silence and the window remained empty. Bucky feared he might have screwed up, that he was too late to apologise, until you reappeared at the window looking curious. Angry, definitely, but curious.  
“What do you mean you told Steve?”  
“Would you please come down here and talk to me? My voice is going to give out before I have a chance to explain.”

A few minutes later, you poked your head around the door of the apartment building.  
“You’d better have a good reason for what you did. I thought… I thought that what happened last night was-”  
“It was,” Bucky pleaded, taking your hands but wanting to scream when you pulled away, “it absolutely was. But I… I got scared. I felt guilty. I left the minute I woke up to confess my sins. I couldn’t think straight knowing that I might’ve betrayed his trust, and yours.”

“But we-”  
“I know.” Bucky laughed airily. “I know, he told me. Hell, he hit me with a cookbook 48 times to get it into my head.” You peered over Bucky’s shoulder to see Steve on the other side of the street. He saluted, smiled, and decided to begin the walk home.

“You’ve got to know, (y/n), I only ever wanted you to be happy, to be safe. I thought that Steve would be better for you.”  
“You were wrong.” You whispered, bowing your head. You had intended to forgive him from the minute he arrived; you just needed a reason first.  
“No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t wrong. If you were with him, you’d be safe and happy. You’d have stability and companionship with a person who is happy and rational. If you choose me over him then you’ll have restless nights when I wake up screaming, you’ll have someone who loves you but doubts every day whether they’re showing it, and you’ll have a life filled with risk, uncertainty, and paranoia.”

“You’re still wrong,” you said with a gentle smile, placing your forehead against his, “because you thought I had a choice.”

Bucky’s mouth found his way to yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. He kissed you softly and sweetly, taking you into his arms and holding you close, that he might never let you go again.  
“I’m glad you’re back.” You whispered after pausing for breath. You placed a hand on his cheek and stroked circles onto his cheek bone.  
“Me too. I shouldn’t have left without saying-”  
“Oh, no. I meant I’m glad you’re back because… you left your phone here. You didn’t notice?”

“(Y/n), I love you and everything, but you really know how to kill the mood.”


	13. Just the Way You Look Tonight

The modern world of warfare was different. Tougher. Bigger. There were talks of fights with aliens, fights with HYDRA – the people who’d captured you – and even fights between the soldiers themselves on a team called the Avengers. When Cap offered you a place in this team, a chance to reconnect with your past self, how could you say no?   
Apparently, very easily.

When you’d joined the army the first time, it was because you longed to make a difference, to do your part in a way you knew you could do well. You felt obligated, as though you didn’t have a choice. This time you did, and you were done fighting. The job you had now had brought you out of poverty when you needed it most. You’d worked hard to get it and it had proved you possessed other skills than just being a good shot (although you did retain that, teaching the legendary Scarlet Witch a thing or two about precision in aiming).

Though just because you knew what you wanted, did not mean you were partial to where. Before you could say “transfer” you were the Avengers’ PR representative and Public Co-ordinator, a title you took very seriously. Tony had been more than happy to take you on after learning your history, especially when you mentioned his father.

After another day’s work, you clambered into bed and felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around you like always. One warm and soft, the other cool and rigid. Bucky pressed his face into the crook of your neck from behind and kissed it gently. “You smell good.”

 “I smell good?” You laughed.

“Familiar. Good.” Bucky was also in the Avengers’ Initiative, fulfilling the role you had declined. Whenever he came home – especially after long missions when he wouldn’t see you for days – he became very sensitive and touched you a lot; checking you were safe and real.

You smirked and folded your arms over his around your waist. His grip tightened a little and you felt your stomach turn circles. Every evening as you drifted off, the danger of nightmares threatened you both. To see the sky lit up with fire or hear the drumming sound of explosions. But sometimes, when you were together, a night would pass without disturbance. Peaceful. Quiet. When the only sound in the room was that of your gentle breathing. On those nights, you slept with a smile on your face.

If the old-you could see you now, what would she say? 

* * *

 

The music ebbed through the air, carrying voices through the corridor at a volume that was far too loud to be sensible, but sensibility be damned! The house, despite filled with music, was empty of dancers. The living room, the study, the bedrooms, even the garden with the Anderson shelter – not a person to be seen.

It was only on the exquisite balcony, that seemed incredibly out of place in the quaint old house, like something out of a dream, that two sweethearts were found in each other’s embrace. The balcony was paved with marble, and bordered with a wall and plants. Not a cloud was in the sky nor a raid siren in the air. The declaration that “War Was Over” had come just before the song and the urge to dance was suddenly evermore. 

The woman looked like you, wearing a long gown with a skirt that dusted the floor. It was decorated with flowers and shimmering jewels. The setting sun caught it completely and you glistened as your partner twirled you around. The man who looked like Bucky wore a tuxedo with tails, his torso flush against you completely. 

The pair of you looked utterly at peace with the world as you swirled and swayed in time to the music. You fit together like a lock and key, two pieces of an imperfect puzzle. As the song came to its conclusion, Bucky’s arms tightened around you, his fingers splayed on your back, capturing your mouth with a kiss. 

As you dreamt of what might have been, a smile crept onto your face in your sleep. You wanted none of that. Not the dress, the music, nothing. It was a dream, a fantasy, for a reason. You wanted Bucky – right here, right now. Drinking coffee with too much sugar, watching old movies, and slow dancing in fuzzy socks. It was the strangest kind of bliss, and not one you would’ve thought about back then. 

You wanted Bucky as he was, there and then, and you wouldn’t give him up for the world. 

_Just the way you look tonight._


End file.
